Ludger let out a long, exhausted sigh, the kind that came from a month of politics, nobles, children, mysterious recruits, and now this. He turned his gaze to Harold, who was calmly sipping from his mug, absolutely unbothered by the idiot sitting on their table.

“Harold,” Ludger said, voice flat. “Why didn’t you volunteer to throw this troublemaker out of the guild after he kicked the door?”

Harold lowered his mug just enough to look at Renvar, then back at Ludger.

“He reminded me of Arslan,” Harold said simply.

Ludger blinked. “My father?”

“Your father before he learned he had kids,” Harold clarified, pointing his thumb lazily toward Renvar. “Young. Cocky. Full of bad ideas. Didn’t fear anything. Thought picking fights with strangers was a personality trait.”

Renvar’s smirk brightened. “That sounds like a compliment.”

Harold grunted. “It’s not.”

Kharnek let out a low rumbling laugh from across the table, his massive frame shifting as he leaned forward.

“Boys like him are common among northern tribes,” Kharnek added, studying Renvar like a zoologist examining a new animal. “Always trying to make a name for themselves. Showing off. Acting loud. Challenging anyone who looks strong.”

Renvar’s chest puffed up proudly. “Exactly—”

“And most of them,” Kharnek continued without pause, “end up with broken noses, cracked ribs, and missing teeth. Sometimes missing pieces of their ears. Sometimes missing whole limbs. Depends on how stupid they are.”

Renvar’s proud expression wilted immediately.

Harold nodded solemnly. “Makes sense.”

Kaela smirked into her drink.

Kharnek finished with a wide grin, flashing sharp teeth. “Still… it is good to see such creatures exist even in empire lands. I thought only northerners had the gift of producing idiots this bold.”

Renvar made a strangled sound. “…Thank you?”

Ludger pinched the bridge of his nose. This was turning into something he’d need to handle before Renvar challenged Arslan, or Kaela stabbed him for breathing too loudly, or Kharnek decided he was a fun warm-up exercise. One more problem. One more headache. But at least this one could be punched.

Ludger exhaled sharply and straightened, deciding it was time to put a lid on this circus before Renvar set something on fire, or challenged Kharnek to an arm-wrestling match and lost both arms.

“Alright,” Ludger said, tone leaving zero room for negotiation, “we’re not accepting troublemakers right now. If you’re looking for a guild that values loud entrances, unnecessary kicks, and idiots who like being punched, there are other places for that.”

Renvar opened his mouth to protest, but Ludger didn’t slow down.

“This guild,” Ludger continued, “is already dealing with political headaches, training over a hundred kids, balancing trade, and trying not to get assassinated by nobles with fragile egos. We don’t have time for anyone who wants to join just to ‘get famous’ or ‘terrorize nobles.’”

Renvar lifted a hand. “Hey, I didn’t say I—”

“And,” Ludger cut in, “if you join the Lionsguard, you’re expected to improve. To learn. To behave. To not punch walls just to impress people. Kaela had to go through a whole behavioral adjustment arc to stop acting like a homewrecker.”

Kaela slammed her hands on the table.

“HEY! I WAS NOT—”

Ludger ignored her completely.

“Point is,” he said, continuing as though Kaela wasn’t glaring daggers sharp enough to skin a wyvern, “this isn’t a guild for people who refuse to change. Kaela adjusted. Even Kharnek learned how to avoid scaring merchants into wetting themselves.”

Kharnek nodded proudly at that.

Renvar blinked, baffled. “Wait—Kaela was a homewrecker?”

Kaela sputtered, “NO I WASN’T! I WAS MISUNDERSTOOD!”

Harold raised his mug. “You definitely were a homewrecker.”

Kharnek shrugged. “You still are, sometimes.”

Kaela looked betrayed by the entire table. Ludger still didn’t acknowledge her outrage.

“Anyway,” Ludger finished, turning back to Renvar, “if you want a place where your personality won’t get in the way of actual work, go find a guild that recruits loudmouths. There are plenty.”

Renvar paused, studying Ludger carefully, really carefully, for the first time. The grin faded. The bravado dimmed.  Something sharper replaced it.

“…So you’re saying if I can

change,” he said slowly, “you might actually let me join?”

Ludger shrugged. “If you can change, survive Kaela, and stop kicking doors, then maybe. Still, I am not feeling like doing that. Too much work.”

Kaela muttered, “I could kill him right now. That would solve the problem. Still, despite his ego the size of his ass, I can guarantee that he gets the job done and he is skilled enough to be more than useful.”

Renvar leaned back, grin returning in full force. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Ludger sighed again. Another headache just walked through the door.

Ludger was two seconds away from grabbing Renvar by the collar and personally depositing him outside the town walls when Harold cleared his throat. A rare sound. A dangerous sound. The kind of sound that meant Ludger should at least pretend to listen.

“Let him stay a while,” Harold said, raising a hand before Ludger could start dragging the kid out. “Give him a chance to prove he’s not useless. Or stupid. Or both.”

Renvar gave a bright thumbs-up. “See? I already have fans.”

Kaela reached for her staff. “I can fix that.”

Harold ignored her. “He reminds me of Arslan when he was young. And if someone like your father can turn into something decent, maybe this idiot can too.”

Ludger closed his eyes. He hated when Harold made sense.

Kharnek chimed in, voice deep and amused. “Let him challenge fate. If he’s strong, he survives. If he’s weak, he dies. Good system.”

Renvar paled slightly. “I—I’m right here.”

But Harold just shrugged, and Kaela waved him off with a muttered insult, and Kharnek’s grin only widened. Ludger reluctantly stepped back.

“Fine,” he said through his teeth. “He stays. For now.”

And that was all Renvar needed. Within ten minutes he had dragged over another bench, slapped three silver coins on the bar, and declared loudly, “Drinks on me!”

Half the guild cheered. The other half joined the line. Harold accepted his cup with the contented sigh of a man enjoying free alcohol.

Kaela sniffed disdainfully, then accepted a drink too. Kharnek took a mug the size of a bucket. Renvar’s wallet began to shrivel before Ludger’s eyes.

He watched Renvar grin like a fool as every Lionsguard member who passed by received a drink, slapped him on the back, or demanded another round.

“…He’s going to go bankrupt in an hour,” Ludger muttered.

Harold nodded approvingly. “Good life lesson.”

Kaela shrugged. “Better than me killing him.”

Kharnek raised his mug. “In the north, we call this thinning the herd.”

Renvar, overhearing none of that, shouted from across the hall, “Another round for my future comrades!”

His pouch gave a sad little jingle. The kind of sound that meant it was already too late to save him. Ludger rubbed his forehead. He could put his foot down. He could shut the nonsense immediately. He could declare Renvar unfit and eject him right now. But doing that would cause problems. Arguments. Drama. Maybe even Harold and Kharnek taking Renvar’s side out of stubborn principle.

And worst of all, Renvar might actually get more determined. So instead, Ludger leaned against the table and watched the disaster unfold.

“Let him burn through his money,” Ludger said. “Let him embarrass himself. Let him dig his own grave.”

Harold clinked his mug against Kharnek’s. “That’s the spirit.”

Kaela snickered. “I’ll dig a real grave if needed.”

Ludger smirked faintly. He’d wait. Patiently. Quietly. Eventually, Renvar would cause some problem big enough to justify kicking him out. And when that moment came, Ludger would have all the excuse he needed to throw the idiot straight out the front door, preferably through the air.

When Ludger finally stepped out of the guild that evening, his head throbbed with the steady, punishing ache of a man who had spent far too long dealing with children, nobles, logistics, and one very loud idiot.

He had spent the afternoon teaching the newer kids, correcting letters, adjusting mana control, and stopping at least three magical accidents involving water spells and someone’s shoes. By the time he wrapped up the final lesson and walked back toward the main hall, he expected, hoped, for quiet. Instead, the guild was louder than a tavern on festival night.

Right in the center of a wide circle of Lionsguard members stood Renvar, grinning like the sun itself had decided to take human form and annoy Ludger personally. Renvar had somehow managed to corral half the guild into a spontaneous “celebration.” Not a real celebration, there was no victory, no contract completion, nothing to justify a party. The only thing being celebrated was Renvar’s sheer inability to accept no as an answer.

He moved from person to person with the same relentless charm that most con artists would kill for. A pat on the back here. A joke there. A story exaggerated so much it bent reality. He was a storm of noise and enthusiasm, pulling even the quieter members into his orbit.

Ludger paused at the entrance, watching in disbelief as Renvar worked his way toward Kaela’s table again. He leaned over and whispered something to Harold, something apparently just stupid enough to make Harold choke on his drink before laughing. Then he slapped a mug in front of Kharnek with enough boldness to risk losing a hand.

Kharnek accepted the mug. Renvar survived. Then, in one horrifying moment, Ludger saw him turn toward Taron, Taron, the runic mage boy who never drank, and Renvar somehow convinced him to take a sip. A sip became half a mug. Half a mug became a red-faced Taron trying to translate runes into drunk rambling.

And the worst part? Everyone was relaxing. Opening up. Letting their guard down. All because some loud stranger with too much charisma and zero sense had walked in and decided the guild needed a party. Ludger’s headache intensified.

He didn’t like people like that. People who wormed their way into social circles with noise and smiles. People who made others relax too fast. People who acted like best friends after an hour.

It wasn’t authentic. It wasn’t earned. And it wasn’t safe. Renvar was the type who breezed into a group and acted like he belonged before anyone even had time to question it. That kind of person caused chaos. That kind of person created messes other people had to clean up.

Ludger hated cleaning messes. He rubbed his temple and forced himself to ignore the chaos as he walked out of the guild. The noise followed him down the road, laughs, cheers, clinking mugs, Renvar shouting something about “showing them his signature sword stance.”

By the time Ludger reached home, the headache had settled behind his eyes like a hammer waiting to drop. He stepped inside, the twins rushing to greet him as usual, but even their excited voices felt quieter compared to whatever Renvar had unleashed at the guild. Ludger exhaled deeply.

He didn’t know what Renvar’s deal was yet. He didn’t know how long the idiot would last. But one thing was certain: The guild did not need a walking disaster with a smile just yet. And when Renvar eventually slipped up… Ludger would be ready.

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